If you've been reading my recent blogs, you'll understand how I've come to understand that grief isn’t a neat, linear process—it’s messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal. You don't just take two steps forward and one step back, you also shuffle sideways a bit as you go. 

So far, I've found that the best way for me to cope was to cocoon myself. I've basically been doing the bare minimum, letting my grief take over, and giving myself permission to just be... letting my grief take the shape it needs to. In these quiet, isolated moments, I allow myself to rest, reset, and simply feel. 

Cocooning hasn't been about withdrawal for its own sake; it has been about giving myself the space to grieve deeply, without the pressure to “do it right.” It's a healing pause, a necessary shutdown on many levels. In this period of stillness, I haven't been avoiding my pain; I am creating a safe space to process it, set new boundaries, and understand what my heart needs.

And now, slowly but surely, I’m beginning to sense a shift. I feel the stirring of a need to move, to be productive, to re-engage with life. I’m feeling a gentle pull to do more—to get moving again. Don’t get me wrong: there's no rush to “move on” or pretend the pain isn’t still there. Instead, I’m beginning to see how my grief has changed me in profound ways. I’m not unrecognizable; I’m simply evolving. I'm different. My perspective on life has shifted, my needs are different, and my boundaries and goals are being redrawn as I gradually step back into the world.

I’m learning that part of the growth process is allowing the healing continue at its own pace, while also allowing myself to dream and act on the desire to create a new chapter.

When I first experienced loss, I needed to hit pause completely. Cocooning meant taking a break from the usual hustle and letting myself exist without expectations. It was about:

• Resting and Resetting: Allowing my body and mind to recover without any pressure to perform.

• Setting Boundaries: Learning to say “no” when I needed space and “yes” when I was ready for a little interaction.

• Deep Reflection: Giving myself the time to feel everything—without judgment—so that I could truly understand what I was going through.

This time has been essential for me. It wasn't a sign of weakness or avoidance; it was the only way I could start to untangle the intense emotions of grief. Because of the support and kind words of many of my readers, I know I'm not alone in how I've been going through this process. I thank you all for that. 

Losing someone as significant to me as Eric has left an undeniable mark on who I am. I’m noticing subtle shifts that affect every part of my life:

• Changing Needs: I’ve realized that some things I once thought were non-negotiable now seem less important, while new priorities have taken their place.

• Evolving Boundaries: I’m more aware of what drains my energy and what nurtures me. I’m learning to protect my space, emotionally and physically.

• Redefining Goals: My ambitions have shifted. The things I once aimed for now look different, and that’s okay—it means I’m growing.

It feels strange to be both more patient with my healing process yet also eager to dive into new opportunities when the time is right. But that mix of emotions is part of the transformation that grief forces upon us.

Emerging from my cocoon doesn’t mean I have to abandon all the quiet time that helped me heal. Instead, it’s about finding a balance:

• Starting Small: I’m setting tiny, achievable goals—like going for short walks and spending a little time researching genealogy - a hobby I love. These small steps help me build momentum without feeling overwhelmed.

• Revisiting Old Passions: Slowly, I’m dipping back into activities that once brought me joy. It’s not about jumping back in at full speed; it’s about reintroducing pieces of my former life in a gentle way.

• Creating New Routines: Establishing a daily structure—one that includes moments of stillness as well as bursts of activity—gives me a sense of control and comfort.

• Maintaining Healthy Boundaries: As I reconnect with the world, I’m careful to keep the boundaries I learned during my cocooning phase. This way, I can be open to new experiences without feeling overwhelmed.

Grief will always be a part of my personal story, but it doesn’t have to define my future. Instead, I’m learning to work it into a broader story of growth and transformation:

• Honoring the Past: I keep memories alive through photos, mementos, and dedicated spaces in my home. These aren’t just reminders of Eric—they’re also testaments to the love we shared.

• Living Authentically: I’ve discovered that true healing isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It’s about embracing every emotion—both the pain and the moments of unexpected joy—and allowing them to coexist.

• Pursuing New Dreams: With each small step forward, I’m creating a future that respects my loss while also opening up space for new joys and opportunities.

Emerging from my cocoon of grief is a slow and sometimes challenging process, but it’s also incredibly transformative. I’m learning that healing doesn’t mean forgetting the past—it means using that experience to grow into a stronger, wiser version of mself. Lots and grief have changed me, yes, but they've also given me the courage to set new goals, redefine my boundaries, and embrace a life filled with both remembrance and possibility.

If you’re on a similar journey, know that it’s okay to take your time. Honor your process, celebrate every small victory, and remember that every step forward is a testament to your resilience. I hope sharing my journey helps you feel a little less alone as you navigate your own path toward healing and new beginnings.

This blog is my space to explore a delicate balance: honoring the cocoon that once held me, while now tentatively spreading my wings to embrace a life that feels both true to my grief and hopeful for the future. I invite you to join me on this journey—a journey that acknowledges the beauty of stillness and the courage it takes to step back into the world, forever changed, but open to new beginnings.